


Winds of Fortune

by RubberDuckSoup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cannon Compliant through S5 Ep19, Dean Winchester is Not Okay, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Non compliant with series finale, Written quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27624419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubberDuckSoup/pseuds/RubberDuckSoup
Summary: In which:Dean does Sam a concern.Dean gets all up in his feelings.Old friends reappear.A cosmic entity is thoroughly vexed.And life goes on.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95
Collections: Their Love Was Real: a Destiel & Saileen Fanworks Challenge





	Winds of Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> This was written hastily between the airing of the penultimate episode and before the series finale. Any similarities to the series finale are pure guesses and not based on spoilers.
> 
> This came about because my sister asked me what I thought would happen in the finale and it turned into this. This is not actually a prediction for the finale that was just the spark.

-Sam-

Dean hands the keys to Sam.

“You want me to drive?” Sam clarifies. Usually, this only happens as a slap on the back for a good outcome on a bad case or when Dean is too hurt or drunk to drive. Today’s hunt was run of the mill.

Dean grunts the affirmative and slides into the passenger seat. Sam takes his place behind the wheel.

“You want to pick something to listen to?” Sam nods toward the radio.

“Driver chooses the music.” He stares out the window.

“Want to get a burger? We passed a steakhouse on the way in that looked pretty good.”

“It’s nearly midnight, man. I just want to go home.”

“Dude!”

“What?” Dean turns to him.

“What is going on with you? Turning down burgers? Letting me drive? The untouched six-pack in the fridge?”

“What’s your point?”

“You are not acting like you, is my point. Dean, I saw you doing sit-ups a few days ago. What gives?”

Dean sighs. “Nothing. It just hit me that I’m older now than I ever thought I’d be and if I wanted to keep on getting older I had to start taking better care of myself. I thought you’d be happy about that.”

“I am! That’s great. It’s just you’ve been acting so different. I was worried.”

“Oh, sorry.” Dean goes back to staring out at the dark cornfields flying by.

“Are you sure that’s the only reason for the change?” Sam tries.

“Hm?” His thoughts were anywhere but the Impala.

“I just… If there is something else going on, you can talk to me. You know that, right?”

“Sure, Sammy. It’s all good.”

Sam lets the conversation end, that’s all he’s going to get from him tonight.

They get back to the bunker. Eileen flips on the lamp as he gets under the covers.

“Sorry to wake you.” He presses a kiss to her cheek.

“No biggie.” She smiles. “Did it work? Did he open up?” She had stayed behind to give them some one on one time.

“Not really.”

“What did you expect? He’s not a talker,” she signs. “Talkative but not a talker.”

“I know,” he signs back. “It’s not like I don’t know it’s about Cas. I just wish I could get him to talk about it.”

“Then you’ll have to keep trying.”

Sam had suggested holding a hunter’s funeral for Cas after the dust from the battle with Chuck had settled, but Dean refused because there was no body to burn. Sam invited a bunch of people to the bunker anyway. Charlie, Bobby, Garth, Jody and Donna and the girls. He told Dean it was a celebration of them surviving. He made a toast to the people they’d lost and asked if anyone wanted to say anything but Dean just chided him for bringing down the mood and turned up the music. The thing is, he wasn’t just doing it for Dean. Cas was a part of Sam’s life for over a decade. He would’ve liked the chance to say goodbye. He needs the talk almost as much as Dean does.

“Dean?” He knocks on his door the next morning. “Can I come in? I’ve got coffee.” No answer. “And pancakes.” Still nothing. “Dean?”

Sam tries the doorknob. The room is empty.

“Impala’s gone.” Eileen comes down the hall.

Dean is a grown man. He’s allowed to leave without telling his brother where he’s going. Just because he never has before is no reason for Sam to panic. Tell that to the ball of dread growing in the pit of his stomach.

Dean’s phone goes straight to voicemail and can’t be located on the GPS.

Sam never should’ve let it go this long. He should’ve forced Dean to talk about it instead of waiting for him to be ready. If Dean had acted like he did after Lucifer killed Cas a few years ago, the barely functional depression that only lifted briefly when he erupted into a boiling rage, Sam would’ve pushed harder, not let Dean brush him off. But Dean was going to bed at a reasonable hour and buying cereal without marshmallows. Sure it was weird as hell but Sam took it as progress, that he was stable enough to reach out for help when he needed it. What he should’ve seen was that the grief was eating away at him. Even his coping mechanisms were breaking down.

Sam heads out to behind the bunker and takes a knee on a patch of grass.

“Jack? Hey, buddy, I know you said you wouldn’t be popping by for a chat but I really could use some help.

“Dean is struggling and I don’t know how to help him. He can’t get past that Cas died to save him. I don’t think anything is going to help except Cas. You brought him back once before and you weren’t even God then.

“If you won’t do it for me or Dean, do it for Cas. He loved you like a son. I know you cared about him. You can’t just leave him to suffer.”

“Castiel isn’t suffering.”

Sam looks up. “Jack?

Sam has tried praying to him many times in the last few months, this is the first time he’s gotten a response. Jack smiles that familiar, guileless smile.

“The Empty isn’t Hell, Sam. It’s not a punishment. It’s just where demons and angels go when they die. Even angels that defied everything angels were created to be. It’s only torment for those who were tormented in life. Cas was at peace when he died. He’s at peace now.”

“But… You saw Dean’s face when he told us. Whatever he saw, it was awful.”

“Awful for Dean. Cas was happy. The Empty couldn’t take Cas until he had a moment of perfect happiness. That was the deal he made to bring me back. Even if Cas _were_ suffering, I couldn’t bring him back.”

“Chuck brought Lucifer out of the Empty.”

“Oh yes, I have the power to bring him back. Sam, you’re right, I care for Cas. And for you and Dean. Beyond what I feel for all living beings. We have history. But I can’t intervene in individual lives. If I get involved, have favorites, do favors, I become Chuck. _I_ can’t bring him back.”

“He’s done so much good for this world. Can’t you make this one exception?”

Jack shakes his head. “Good people die all the time. Their loved ones pray to me to bring them back. Their pain is as real as Dean’s. Denying them is not easy. It would never be just one exception. It’s how things have to be. I have to let people die. Which means I have to let my friends die.”

With that, he starts to fade away.

“Wait! I won’t ask you to bring Cas back again! But can you help me find Dean? This is barely a favor. Jody already has highway patrol keeping an eye out for the Impala. I’ll find him eventually, I just want to speed it up." Before he does something stupid.

Jack is gone but in his place a crinkled sheet of paper floats to the ground. Sam snatches it up. It’s a set of latitude and longitude coordinates.

* * *

-Dean-

Dean didn’t mean to drive here. He didn’t have a destination in mind when he set out. He’d woken before dawn, feeling like he was suffocating, and just took off.

If someone had asked yesterday, he’d have said he couldn’t remember the location of the barn, but somehow he found it without looking. Honestly, he's surprised it's still standing. It looks a breath away from collapsing. He's probably pushing his luck just sitting on this moldy hay bale.

What is he doing here? It’s just an abandoned barn, he can’t even make out the sigils on the walls anymore. What did he think was going to happen? A miracle? That Cas would come strolling through the doors, whole and healthy, while sparks rained down on him? That’s not Jack’s style. He’s taken a hands-off approach to the divinity thing. He’s ignored Dean for months. He’s not going to cave now because Dean went on a nostalgic road trip.

An ember of righteous anger ignites in his heart. Maybe that is what he came for. To howl at an indifferent God and tear the building down around him. But the flame flickers out as fast as it lit. That’s not him anymore. Cas made him see that. The anger had just been a protective fence around the scared four-year-old who lost his mom.

Trouble is he doesn’t know what to do without the anger. All of his habits, hobbies, vices, came about to either fuel or contain the anger. So he’d started doing all the stuff he’d resisted for so long. Physically he feels better, rested and energized, but he doesn’t _feel_ better at all. All he accomplished was convincing Sam he’d been replaced by a Pod Person.

The barn doors creak open. Dean’s heart starts to race. A figure stands silhouetted in the doorway and Dean can’t breathe around the swelling in his throat. Then he takes in the shape of the person at the door: long legs, broad shoulders.

“Dean?” It’s Sam.

Dean crumples onto the hay, curling into himself. For a second, he’d thought…

“Dean!” Sam rushes to him. “What was it?” He grabs Dean’s wrists and pushes up his sleeves. Then takes him by the chin and looks into his eyes. “Did you take something?”

“Take?” Dean repeats, alarmed by the panic in Sam’s voice. He twists out of his grasp.

“Please Dean, let me help. It’s not too late, I’ll call an ambulance but they’ll need to know what you did.”

“What I d—ambulance?” he repeats. “You think I’m trying to off myself?”

Sam stares at him, fear slowly ebbing from his face. “You’re not?”

“No,” Dean whispers.

Sam closes his eyes in relief, which is quickly replaced by fury. “You asshole, you scared me half to death!”

Dean scoots back in the hay. “Sorry?”

“You disappear without a word and then I track you to some murder-barn in the middle of nowhere? What was I supposed to think?” He gestures to the dilapidated roof. “I had a panic attack trying to get through the doors because I was sure I’d find you swinging from the rafters!” Sam shouts, chest heaving.

Dean holds up his hands. “I’m sorry. Sam, I’m sorry.”

Sam deflates and takes a seat on the ground.

“I’m pissed that you’re not suicidal. That’s fucked up.” He sighs and takes out his phone.

“I don’t need an ambulance.”

“I’m texting Eileen that she can go home. I promised I’d let her know when I found you. She’s waiting at a gas station about five miles back. In case I needed…”

“Oh.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes.

“Why did you come here? What is this place anyway?”

“Uh. It’s where I met Cas. Well, not exactly but I can’t just drive into Hell.”

“Now that Rowena is in charge? You probably can.”

“Okay, true. Anyway, it’s where I remember meeting Cas.”

“Yeah, if I’d known that when I got here I’d have been twice as worried. I’m relieved as hell that you didn’t come here to kill yourself but you aren’t okay. What happened to Cas, Dean?”

“The Empty took him.”

“I know that part. But there’s more isn’t there?”

Dean grimaces and nods.

“Jack said he was happy.”

“You talked to Jack? He talked to you?” Dean doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The kid finally answered?

“This morning. You were missing. I was scared. I guess I got through to him. I asked him to bring Cas back. It was the only thing I could think of that might help. Not that I don’t want him back too.”

“What did he say?”

“He said no. He was nice about it, enigmatic but nice. He won’t do it.”

“The little shit,” Dean mutters.

“He has his reasons.” Sam sounds resigned. “He did bring the entire world back he doesn’t owe anyone anything.”

 _He owes Cas_ , Dean thinks but doesn’t say.

“Dean, what happened?” Sam asks again.

Dean takes a deep breath. “Billie chased us into the Bunker. She wanted me dead because… Who even cares why. She wanted me dead. She used her mojo to give me a heart attack.”

Sam winces. “I hate that.”

“Why do you think I’ve laid off the red meat lately? Cas got me to a storeroom and warded the door. Stopped the pain. But Billie was pounding on the door. She was going to break through eventually. Death was literally beating down the door to get to us.” Dean chuckles bitterly.

“There was no escaping, that was it. We were done. Then Cas made a decision. I could see it on his face. He said he’d made a deal with the Empty back when Jack died. The first time Jack died. He bargained his life for Jack’s. The Empty would take him at a moment of total happiness.”

Dean covers his mouth, tears running down his face. He can see Cas’s face behind his eyes. “He said I wasn’t some monster that was only good for killing. He said I was loving and selfless and that I taught him…” He presses his hands to his eyes. He’s back in that damn storeroom. Helpless, useless, worthless.

“He said he loved me. And that telling me was… telling me was his happiness. And I just stood there. I couldn’t… I heard him but I… All that was going on in my head was he’s going to die, he’s going to die, he’s going to— Billie broke through the ward, and at the same moment, the Empty arrived. Cas pushed me out of the way, smiled, said goodbye. The Empty took Billie, then it took Cas. And I was alone.”

“Dean,” Sam whispers, gently squeezing his shoulder. Dean looks up, he’d been so lost in the memory he forgot Sam was there.

“That’s when it finally sunk in.”

“That he was gone?”

Dean shakes his head. “What he said. About me. About him. He loved me. _Really_ loved me. I always thought, you know, he’s an angel. He’s learning to love all of humanity. Everything. He loved bees, Sammy! I figured I was just another bee to him.”

“C’mon Dean, you had to know you meant more to him than that?”

“We had a ‘profound bond’ sure. We saved the world together. Were we family? Hell yes. I knew all that. I didn’t know… I couldn’t see it. Twelve years. He’s standing there the whole time, loving me. And I couldn’t see it.”

“It’s okay,” Sam soothes, using the same tone Dean used to calm him when he was little and having nightmares.

“ _How_ is it okay?”

“Um, I don’t know?”

That pulls a laugh from Dean. And once the first is out another follows and another. It’s a snotty, weepy, kind of laughter but it’s laughter all the same.

“He’s gone, Sam. There’s so much I need to tell him but he’s gone.”

“He’s in the Empty.”

“I know.”

“He’s come back from the Empty before.”

“Because Jack brought him back. Which you said he won’t do again.”

“Jack said _he_ wouldn’t bring him back. He didn’t say no one could. Maybe we can.”

“How? The reapers boarded up the door to the library from the other side. I’ve tried getting in, it ain’t happening. And we don’t even know if there was a way into the Empty from there. For all we know any travel back and forth was just Billie playing chess.”

“So, we don’t have a way yet. We’ll look. We’ve got all the research in the Bunker. Eileen will help. We’ll raid the British Men of Letters files. Bobby or Garth might have a book we don’t. We’ll look and we’ll keep looking until we find something.”

* * *

-Sam-

It takes a few months but Sam finds it. They need a Psychopomp. Like Reapers, Psychopomps can travel between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Unlike a Reaper, they can’t kill you with a blink of their eye. They’re Uber drivers for the afterlife, as Garth put it. All afterlifes. Including the Empty.

First obstacle: you can’t just summon a Psychopomp. They are created via a spell. There’s no such thing as a second-hand Psychopomp. You need to be who the Psychopomp was assigned to when the spell was cast.

Second obstacle: the spell is enormously complicated, consisting of extremely rare and volatile ingredients. It can only be done by someone massively powerful and experienced. And even then it will probably kill them.

Third obstacle: Psychopomps can’t be created from nothing. You need a ghost to build one on. You need a willing ghost. Ghosts are not overly fond of the Winchesters.

Except for one. Kevin Tran volunteers.

With the help of Jody, Donna, and the girls they collect the ingredients with minimal injury.

Which just leaves finding someone powerful enough to cast the spell.

Rowena makes it look easy.

“Finally, by taking the essence of Cerberus, you Kevin Tran agree to safely transport these mortals, Dean Winchester and Samuel Winchester, to and from any realm of the dead at their request.”

“We promise to not abuse it,” Sam adds.

“Works for me.” Kevin nods.

Rowena flicks her hand and Kevin’s spirit swirls into a mist and then gently reforms into a person. Kevin pats himself down.

“Did it work?” Dean asks.

“I’ll try not to be insulted by the question, dear, since I know you’re under a lot of stress. Viola, one made-to-order Psychopomp.”

“I’m corporeal!” Kevin cheers. “Fistbump!” He holds out his fist to Dean who gives it a bump. Then he pulls Sam into a hug. It’s obvious that the past year was rough on Kevin. Still, Sam is, as always, impressed by the kid. The fact that he was able to hold onto himself and not go into unhinged-ghost-mode with nothing anchoring him to the world proves just how strong a spirit he is.

“Wow, so soft.” Kevin tousles through Sam's hair. Okay, maybe he’s frayed at the edges a little. The fact that becoming a Psychopomp means he can be corporeal anytime he wants is probably as much a draw as helping his friends.

“Thank you.” Sam takes a step back.

“Sorry. I really missed touching things. The textures and stuff. Ooh is that velvet?” He wanders over to Rowena and begins stroking her gown.

“Aren’t you just an adorable little peanut?” She pinches his cheek. “You lot better be on your way before I decide to keep him.”

“Right. Thank you.” Dean offers his hand to shake.

“My pleasure. Been a while since I got to practice my craft down here. Now then. Go on. Get your man.”

Sam waits to see how Dean will react to that. He just nods. As far as Sam knows, Dean hasn’t told anyone else how he feels about Cas. Not that he actually put it in words to Sam. Didn’t have to.

“Don’t be strangers, boys! Always an open door in Hell for the Winchesters!” She calls after them.

They emerge into the night in a graveyard. Sam texts an update to Eileen.

“Be careful. Love you,” she replies.

“We will. I think it’s going to work. Love you too.”

He comes back to where Kevin and Dean are waiting.

“What is that smell?” Kevin sniffs.

“Rotting leaves,” Dean answers.

“Awesome.” Kevin grins. “Okay, this is exciting. First outing as a Psychopomp.”

“You sure you’re up for this? Doesn’t have to be tonight, if you need time.” Sam is shocked Dean is offering to wait. He’s been champing at the bit ever since they learned about Psychopomps. Sam knows Dean is trying to live up to all the things Cas said about him. He was already all those things, loving and kind and selfless, but he’s finally getting out of his own way.

“I’m up to it,” Kevin says. “Probably. We’ll see.” He grabs each of them by a shoulder and with a clang, they’re somewhere else. “Corduroy, I missed corduroy.” Kevin fingers Dean’s collar. “It sounds how it feels, don’t you think?”

“Sure. Is this it? Is this the Empty?” Sam asks. Kevin spins in a circle to take in all the nothing.

“I guess so. Probably. It’s my first day, guys.” He shrugs.

“Hello boys,” says a voice like a rock-tumbler come to life. A rock-tumbler with an English accent.

“Crowley?” Dean breathes.

The former king of Hell steps into view.

“That’s not Crowley,” Sam says.

“The moose is correct. I thought I’d put on my best for company.” The Empty gestures to itself.

This is creepy. It had been creepy when the Empty appeared as Meg and Meg had only been an occasional ally. But Crowley was—eventually— a friend. A duplicitous, self-serving, sardonic, friend. And the last time they’d seen him he sacrificed himself to buy them a little time. _The jerk._

If it’s unsettling for Sam it’s got to be doubly so for Dean. There had been real affection between them. Sam always thought it was because he saw Crowley as a reflection of himself, or at least of his worst impulses.

“Sam,” Empty-Crowley nods at each of them in turn, “Dean, and Mister Tran. What an unexpected pleasure.”

“Yeah, you look like the guy who held me and my mom prisoner. Fun reunion, woo,” Kevin deadpans.

Sam smiles. Mouthing off to an all-powerful cosmic entity? Kevin Tran is going to be just fine.

“I’ll save you some time. Castiel stays. But cheers for the memories, boys. Now, off you pop.” He dismisses them with a wave of his hand.

“No,” Dean says.

“No?” Empty-Crowley repeats.

“We’re not leaving without him,” Dean growls.

Empty-Crowley purses his lips. “This is growing tiresome. I only allowed you to linger this long because this particular form is unduly fond of you. But it’s wearing thin.” He waves his hand and just like that they’re at the bunker. Eileen looks up from her book in surprise.

Before Sam can say anything Kevin’s hand is on his shoulder and they’re back in the black void of the Empty.

Empty-Crowley groans a familiar groan of exasperation.

“Psychopomp,” Kevin whisper-gloats.

“Just let us plead our case,” Sam says.

“Fine,” Empty-Crowley says, like a parent whose kid promised to go to sleep after just one more story.

“We want to make a deal,” Dean says.

“I don’t make deals.”

“You made a deal with Billie.”

“That was more of an alliance than a deal and it went tits up awfully fast. Not a great argument, lads.”

“You made a deal with Cas,” Dean tries.

“Well, yes. You got me. But I had motive to make that deal. He was the one to wake me up. Haven’t been able to sleep since. I _liked_ my sleep. Call me petty, but I just wanted to see him suffer.”

“How’s that working out for you?” Sam asks. “I heard he’s at peace.”

Empty-Crowley does an exaggerated shrug. “I admit I didn’t think the ‘moment of true happiness’ thing completely through. He has been frustratingly quiet since I took him. Still, his suffering at the anticipation of it was satisfying. And your suffering…,” he looks at Dean, “a delightful bonus.”

Dean’s jaw tightens.

“No deals. I’m done with deals,” Empty-Crowley’s face goes cold. “Castiel is an angel. He died. He belongs here. End of story.”

“But what if he’s not an angel?” Sam muses. What was it Jack said? “He defied everything an angel was created to be. Can he even be considered an angel in that case?”

Dean looks over at him, eyes going wide. “He was nothing like the other angels. Nothing like anyone I’ve ever met.” Dean smiles, tears shining in his eyes. “His creator said he came off the line with a crack in his chest.”

“Right, he was never an angel, not really. And that means he’s not under your jurisdiction.”

“Not an angel.” Empty-Crowley laughs. Hearing Crowley’s laugh coming from something so not Crowley is off-putting, to say the least. “Oh, that’s good!” He wipes his eyes. “It’s utter bullocks, but it’s good. I’m starting to understand why this form found you so amusing.”

“I was pre-law at Stanford. I can come up with a million arguments for why you should send him back. And I’m willing to make you listen to every single one of them.”

“You can kick us out as many times as you want,” Dean says. “We’ll keep coming back. We have a Psychopomp.”

“They sure do,” Kevin affirms.

“You’re mortals. I’ll outlast you.”

“Yeah, you will. But do you really want to put up with us every day, all day, for the next sixty years?” Sam asks.

Empty-Crowley scowls.

“You have Crowley’s memories,” Dean adds, “he knows us. We’re persistent. Tenacious even.”

“If you don’t believe him ask Abbadon.”

“Or Lilith.”

“Metatron.

“Lucifer.”

“Gad—“

“Enough!” He shouts. “You win. He’s not an angel. Get out!” The last is roared at such volume that Sam is not surprised to be knocked off his feet. He is disoriented though when he lands on his back in—where are they? He sits up, it’s the murder-barn.

“Sorry about the rough landing,” Kevin says. “It was probably because of the extra weight.”

Dean is already scrambling toward the prone form near the far wall.

“Cas!” he shouts. He rolls him over. “Cas?” He repeats, frantic.

Cas’s eyes are open but just barely. They glow a faint, rapidly decreasing, blue as the last of his grace leaks from his mouth. His eyes flutter shut. “Sam! Help!”

Sam is already on the line with 911.

* * *

-Dean-

The heart monitor beeps steadily as Dean approaches the bed. Cas had been admitted with internal hemorrhaging and multiple organ failure. Sam believes it’s because he was in the same vessel for so long the angel grace was the only thing keeping it functioning. The last twelve hours have been the longest of Dean’s life. He should have come out of the anesthesia a few hours ago. He hasn’t. The doctor who spoke to them gave him a fifty-fifty chance of waking up.

He takes a seat next to the bed, reaching out to take his hand but he thinks better of it. He doesn’t want to dislodge the IV. He’s got tubes in his nose delivering oxygen and tubes in his arms delivering blood. He looks like a second act-break on Dr. Sexy M.D.

“People in comas are supposed to be able to hear when someone talks to them, I think. Don’t know where I heard that. Might’ve been a Stephen King novel. Doesn’t matter. I’m used to whole conversations without you ever looking at me. I used to wonder if you had some kind of celestial ADHD. I’ve memorized the back of your head.” Dean chuckles.

“I need you to wake up. Okay? If we pulled you out of the Empty, where you were at peace, just for you to die as a human.” Dean gulps “That’s not something I’ll ever get over.

“Every day, I’ve thought about what I’d say to you if I got the chance. Now I don’t care if I say anything. All I want is for you to wake up. But I’ll say it. You deserve to hear it. God, I hope you can hear it.

“I love you, Cas.

“I… I tried not to. Spent years telling myself I couldn’t. That didn’t stop me from wanting you around all the time. From being miserable when we weren’t getting along. From being jealous when you kissed Meg.

“I hated myself for feeling that way. For wanting something I couldn’t have and didn’t deserve. It made me so angry. I’d get mad at myself for thinking I might mean something to you. And mad at you for making me think it. But it wasn’t your fault.

“When you told me how you felt, what you really thought of me, I couldn’t believe it. Even with you pouring your heart out, I couldn’t believe it. I was so scared because I knew I was about to lose you. I was paralyzed. And then it was too late.

“Your true happiness was telling me how you felt. Which means you weren’t happy before. All that time you couldn’t be happy because I made it impossible to tell me. I’m so sorry.

“You said I changed you and maybe that’s true but you changed me, Cas. You did. When we met you told me good things can happen. I didn’t believe it then but you made me believe it. Over and over again. Good thing after good thing. And you loving me? That’s the best thing. All I’m asking for is one more good thing. Please, Cas, please wake up.”

Dean falls silent. He drops his head to his hands. After everything, gathering the ingredients for the spell, convincing the queen of Hell to build them a Psychopomp, out-arguing the Empty, this is how it ends?

Dean wasn’t lying, he’s not going to get over this. He’s— Something touches his left shoulder. A hand.

“Hello, Dean.”

* * *

-Sam-

Sam places a rock on one of the memorial markers in the garden. It had been Cas’s idea. Most hunters don't have graves, but they can have something to commemorate that they lived and that they are missed. So they’d planted a little garden behind the bunker and put up placards for the dead. There was one for Bobby, their Bobby. Apocalypse World Bobby is a good man and so much like him, it's easy to forget it's not him. But he’s not the Bobby they grew up with and that Bobby deserves to be remembered. They made one for this world’s Charlie too. And Ellen and Jo. And Ash. And Gabriel and Crowley and Adam and their parents and… It’s a crowded garden.

Sam has a seat in the grass.

“So, haven’t talked to you in a while. Sorry about that. Didn’t feel like giving updates most of the time. Too depressing. But things are actually pretty good right now.

“We’ve opened the bunker to other hunters. Legacies be damned. The bright side of us being the last Men of Letters, we get to decide who gets to carry it on. It’s the People of Letters now, by the way. 'Cause that was just sexist. Some new hunters have moved in, Claire for one, but it’s available to any who need the resources.

“I moved out. Eileen and I are renting a little place over a coffee shop. Free wifi, which is pretty sweet. You don’t know Eileen. I think you’d like her. I like her. I like her a lot.

“We also adopted a puppy. She tries to eat everything that isn’t nailed down. Naturally, I wanted to name her Dean but we went with Judy instead. Judy the puppy.

“Speaking of Dean, he and Cas are living at the bunker for now. I guess you never met Cas either. That’s strange. I mean not really strange but it _feels_ strange. Anyway, they’re still at the bunker but lately Cas has started talking about opening a Bed and Breakfast. He says he wants to help people feel comfortable. And Dean doesn’t seem to hate the idea. Which is just proof of how much happiness has changed him. Then again he does love both bed and breakfast.

“Cas is also talking about getting a few beehives, but Dean is less enthusiastic about that idea. There was this case, involving bugs and— less said about that one the better.

“Alright, I should go. We’re all meeting at a new diner Dean has been raving about. He swears they have vegetarian options but I am almost certain those options will turn out to be onion rings or chili fries. He hasn’t changed that much.”

He stands, brushing the dirt from his pants. “Later, Jess.”


End file.
